Birdwatching

 

I spent a few hours swotting up. I bought a pocket guide. A friend loaned me a beautiful coffee table book. I wanted to be able to identify the beautiful birds in our garden, and count them for the RSPB Great British Bird Watch.

I leapt out of bed at what I thought was 6.15 this morning, to get the hour done before cats and kids got on the move. My eyes had played tricks on me, though: the clock didn’t say 6.15 but 8.15, so within minutes of my count starting, I had a cat wanting out. Kids in the kitchen followed shortly thereafter.

Still, nothing deterred the birds from their frenzied feeding at the nuts and seeds. I was delighted to count three gorgeous woodpeckers: we see one quite frequently but I saw three at the same time. The blue tits, great tits, coal tits, chaffinches and sparrows all backed off whenever a woodpecker latched onto the feeder. When it flew off, four or five of the tiny songbirds took its place instantly.

I soon had Flick to help me keep the tally. We added a pigeon and several blackbirds. I think I saw three pied wagtails.

The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof. Focusing on the beauty of a world unaware of climate change, unaware of covid-19, draws my gaze upwards and off the rutted paths we all tread just now. I never thought I might enjoy watching the birds as much as I am.

All Weathers

 

 

The heavy clouds can hold it in no longer, and the snow falls soft and wet onto the cold earth. It blurs the sharp edges of bare branches stretching upwards. It begins to blanket mouldy leaves on the grass, moss on the stone dykes, and green daffodils pressing upwards through the frozen earth.

A stillness hangs in the air.

Winter. Even in the depths of winter, there is beauty. I’ve heard it said that there is no bad weather, just bad clothing. A properly warm jacket; a seriously cosy sweater; long johns. Thermal socks. Waterproofs. When I had Dusty and was out walking her daily, I discovered to my surprise that every day had something in it to commend it, to admire, as long as I went out properly prepared, suitably dressed.

Spiritually, we can slide into wintry valleys. A stillness may seem to have fallen over us from heaven, a silence. God has provided spiritual clothing to help us weather the storms. In his word; in music; in prayer. He knits together all the covering we need.

May you be covered by His love today. May you lean in and shelter in the shadow of the almighty, allow yourself to be gathered into his arms. He cares for you.

In all weathers, in all conditions, He is sufficient.

In the Dark

 

‘Michele is in the dark,’ someone remarked as I joined in on a Zoom meeting.

True enough, I was sitting in the corner of my bedroom, with the only light source weak, and behind me. The other rooms were filled with family busy with many and varied activities. My bedroom has become my private space.

Dark though it is.

I’ve brought the bedside lamp beside me this morning, and as I prepare to Zoom in to my Bible study, I hope that illuminates me a little more. But the important thing is not seeing my face.

It’s seeing the face of God. As I prepare to click the link, I pray that through our sharing, through our praying, through our looking into the scripture, we will all be enlightened.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness hasn’t overcome it. So thankful for the light of the world.

Leaning In

 

The hills around us are white with snow and the ice continues to extend its treacherously invisible fingers across steps and roads. I lift my eyes to the hills … knowing my help is in the name of the Lord. My mother’s favourite psalm.

What a comfort it is to know that she has such a powerful word to cling to during these lonely and isolating days. Confused by the invasiveness of the weekly Covid tests, her one consolation is the Lord. He is all she needs: it is me who needs to keep that in mind when I hear her distress on the phone.

‘Oh God, you are my God: earnestly I seek you, my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you in a dry and weary land where there is no water.’ My favourite psalm, a powerful encouragement when my sister died, and one I find myself leaning into now. I recommend it, for all those who are finding the dreary or anxious or grieving days long and empty, for all who feel they are in a dry and weary land without water.

I love that psalm because in it, David disciplines his thoughts to remember the love and past actions of God, to raise his voice to praise the glory of God, and to declare that ‘because your love is better than life, my lips will praise you’. ‘Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.’

May we all shelter in the shadow of our loving Lord today, and raise our voices – however weak and warbly they may be – because God’s right hand upholds us.

Linger Listen and Watch

 

‘I often see willow warblers here,’ Hazel exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘Across the road, there are sometimes ospreys. Oh, do you hear the call of the buzzards?’

I had to admit it. I wouldn’t know a willow warbler if he warbled in my face. I wouldn’t recognise an osprey, and the word buzzard reminds me of a hunchbacked vulture in American cartoons.

This weekend, I hear, is specially set aside for UK residents to count the feathered friends in their gardens, identifying how many of each species they see. I would love to do that, but once I got past the woodpecker, blackbirds and blue tits, I would struggle to identify many others visiting our bird feeders.

‘I’ve got an app,’ she admitted. ‘Before lockdown, I didn’t have time to linger, to listen, and to watch.’

BL. Before Lockdown. AL. After Lockdown, we may be significantly changed people, if we are fortunate enough to have had the time and space to linger, listen and watch.

I think I’ll download that app, and have a go at identifying ‘our’ birds. Then, AL, perhaps I’ll have an opportunity to take a walk with one of the heroes of the pandemic – an NHS worker, a teacher, a home-schooling parent. I’m sure that the healing benefits many of us are finding in nature, will be efficacious for those who will stagger, exhausted, out of the demands of these dark days.

Don’t despise the days of small things, the Bible advises. God is speaking peace and beauty constantly through the detail and the glory of his world. May we emerge from Lockdown more attuned to the quiet knock of the Lord at the door of our hearts. May we attain a balance in our lives which frees us to take the time to invite Jesus in to sit and share supper with us. And with him as our dinner guest, may we be enriched as we linger, listen and watch.

Slippery Winter

 

We are having a very slippery winter.

Some stretches of field and park are smooth with ice and slippery as skating rinks. The danger is obvious and visible. But as we embark on daily walks, with our driveway and the road clear of ice, the temptation is to grow complacent, trusting in our own sure-footedness on textured surfaces.

A few hundred yards down the road, though, there is a notorious low spot which consistently floods, and has sat underwater now for several weeks. Alongside the flooded road, the verges crouch in shadow, frozen white with ice, the grass stiff and treacherous. Hidden dangers.

It is easy to set off confidently, trusting in my own sure steps and the clean surface. Easy to dismiss the possibility of suddenly reaching a patch of black or white ice underfoot, and the threat that comes with it.

As I walk into this new week, help me to trust not in my own eyes but in your guidance, God, so that my feet do not slip, my thoughts do not stray onto the iciness of negativity and fear, leading to brokenness and calamity. Even as I keep my eyes fixed on you, Lord, make me aware of potential pockets of ice which might undermine my well-being.

The world struggles to keep its footing during the deadly slipperiness of this pandemic. God encourages us in Psalm 91: ‘You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.’

May we all dwell in the shelter of the Most High today, resting in the shadow of the Almighty, confident in him. A slippery winter can be a time of beauty, if approached with God.

Vaccine against Infection

 

News from Mom’s residence that dates are fixed now for immunisation. Protection for the vulnerable. I am grateful to God for the clever people who have worked so diligently to develop the variety of vaccines which are becoming available. I am grateful to God that little by little, society can become a safer place to be. The vaccines, I understand, don’t confer 100% immunity, but do give a high percentage of protection and even in cases where Covid does develop, they may be lighter than they would otherwise have been.

I’ve been looking at the letter to the church in Thyatira, written by Jesus through John and recorded in Revelation. It’s made me think about tolerance. It’s made me examine my own thoughts and attitudes and bring them to God, asking him to help me not to conform to the ways of the world but to be transformed by his Spirit. I think this requires constant vigilance and bringing everything to God, in prayer and in his Word.

We are embedded in the world, but we live as foreigners, the Bible says, whose citizenship is in the Kingdom of God. May his Word and his Spirit and the gathered wisdom of the saints in our churches keep us from diluting God’s standards. May his Word and his Spirit be for us a vaccine against infection from the world.

A Fresh Start

 

Like many others I’m sure, I shed some tears as I heard Kamala Harris take the oath of office of Vice President of the United States. A woman of colour in this high position: praise God. We were driving back from the dentist’s, and I had joined in with Lady Gaga in singing – or at least humming – the Star-Spangled Banner. Then Joe Biden took his oath of office, and a sense of relief swept through me. Someone who is willing to gather round him people of integrity and expertise, and to listen and learn and act in accordance, as part of a team.

It felt like the end of a war. Or maybe like D-Day – because there is a lot of territory which was lost during the previous administration, which needs to be re-taken: areas of environmental, judicial, and compassionate importance. This administration needs our prayers.

The wind is howling here today, the rain sweeping in sheets across the sky. Blowing out the old.  A cleansing. A refreshing. A new start.

Thanks to our Father God for his loving and great mercies. So grateful that yesterday there was no attempted violence or overthrow of a democratically-elected government. So grateful that yesterday, on a much smaller scale, I came out of the dentist’s office with hope for retaining that tooth, and gratitude for the skill of the dentist and the blessing that we have here to be able to afford to have our teeth repaired.

Plagues of Locusts

 

I’ve not heard anything about the plague of locusts in East Africa for awhile. Even googling it brings only news of the disaster from last summer. I hope this means it is over: if so, it illustrates how much more ready we are to talk about and print bad news than we are good news. Or maybe it’s just that there is so much bad news out there, there hasn’t been breath to talk about a plague of locusts in Africa.

Swarms of locusts can plague our minds and eat the nutritious and life-giving thoughts which struggle to take root. Today the locusts arrive on two waves in my mind. One very personal: a forty-minute stint in the dentist’s chair with an uncertain outcome. At nearly the same time, one very global situation: the inauguration of President-Elect Biden and Vice President-Elect Harris. I hear rumours of disruption and violence planned against the peaceful handover, and my excitement is dulled by fear.

And then I read Amos 5:24: Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! Praying that over all nations of the world this morning, especially the USA. I also read Psalm 62: My soul finds rest in God alone…he is my fortress; I shall never be shaken. As I sit under the dentist’s drill later today, I will meditate on this psalm.

Swarms of locusts – in nature and in thought – are real. I pray that the plague has left Africa now. I also pray that God will help me to protect the creative, nourishing thoughts he is germinating in my mind, from the ravages of mind locusts. Anyone else vulnerable to such assaults on inner peace? Praying for you, too.

No Slips

 

The icy fingers of winter continue to grip us. Overnight, Jack Frost flung a bucket of crystals on fence posts and skeletal bushes; I admire the look from inside, where I hear the boiler working hard to keep the room temperatures tolerable. I may not venture far today.

Yesterday I heard of good friends who responded with enthusiasm to a sunny morning, discarding ‘Yak Traks’ as they headed to the riverside for a walk. Finding themselves slipping and sliding alarmingly, they took what they thought would be a safer short-cut home, only to become marooned on sheet ice and forced to crawl to safety on hands and knees. They knew there were over fifty locals getting bones set after jarring falls on the ice, and they didn’t want to follow suit.

Yak Traks would have given them surer footing on the slippery surfaces they found themselves on. I find spiritual Yak Traks in the Bible, in prayer, and in the encouragement of others. Enticed into paths of thought which sometimes become treacherous, it’s only through gripping tight to the truth of Jesus’ life and words, and trusting that he is gripping me, that save me from a fall.

The airwaves crackle with cries of fake news and conspiracy theories. People become convinced that they hold the truth. If that truth lines up with the Yak Traks of Jesus, then fair enough. But if it leads to bigotry and violence, then the posters and banners claiming adherence to Christian values slander Christ and are perhaps one of the worst aspects of current unrest.

Praying for peace in tomorrow’s hand-over of leadership in Washington DC. We don’t want any slips.

.

Hitchin a Ride

 

I look up from my desk at the breaking day, and a song from the late 60’s drops into my mind. ‘A thumb goes up, a car goes by, it’s nearly 1 am and here am I, hitchin’ a ride, hitchin’ a ride…’ In 1970, my sister Judy and I spent three months travelling through Europe, hitch-hiking, and this was our theme song. Memories flood my mind, and I smile.

We had a rough plan of travel, and reservations in youth hostels in the big cities like Amsterdam, London and Vienna. How we moved from one city to the next was a daily adventure. We might take a different route from planned, depending on who picked us up. At times we sped along roads in swish cars; more frequently we trundled along in banana lorries. We grew to prefer the latter, as there was reliability and no undercurrent of caution when we were in the cab of a lorry due somewhere by a certain time.

Over thirteen weeks, we covered a lot of miles. We were exhausted and elated, laughed and cried, met many fascinating individuals, and relied on each other more than we’d ever done before. A special chapter in my life’s journey.

So as the sun comes up today, there are many trains of thought I can board. I can take my thoughts on board with Martin Luther King, as it’s his day today, and give thanks for him, and for all others, who risk their lives and pay high prices for truth and justice. I can bump along on a lorry loaded with anxieties over all the challenges facing society and the world today, with fear and apprehension as companions. I can board the bullet train of Jesus and enjoy the panorama while he keeps my eyes fixed on him, while he keeps my efforts focused on working for mercy, justice and peace, and campaigning for action on environmental issues.

I suspect that as the day progresses, my thoughts will ride on many trains, and my actions will reflect that. I pray that my journey this day will bring encouragement and hope, and keep me trusting in Jesus to bring all things right.

As our three-month adventure drew to a close, Judy and I were excited to get back home where Dad and Mom would provide security and love. We’d had an amazing time, but we were a little world-weary. I sense the same excitement heading towards my eternal home.

Grace and Peace

 

Again, I’m going to comment on the light. It is what I notice most mornings.

I notice that as the sun rises low on the horizon, it glows through the bare branches of the acer tree, casting their shadows on the wall of the house. The pattern on the wall is only there in winter, when the sun’s rays outline the skeleton of the tree.

During the dark days of this pandemic, many are stressed, challenged to play roles they never trained to do, expected to stimulate young minds or stretch fewer pennies or deal with bereavement alone. It is not just the climate’s season of winter, but there is a winter of social interactions, where many feel they are stripped down to bare bones. I see a younger generation rising to the challenge, and as I look at my own kids and the way they are handling the dramatic constriction of horizons and disappointment of dreams, I see the light of God shining through them and casting a shadow in places his light might otherwise not reach.

If I were rolling out the vaccines, I would prioritise young and middle-aged people, especially those who must continue to interact with a possibly-infected world. Not just the key workers in hospitals and care homes, but also the teachers, the grocery store checkers, the sanitation workers. My generation has the option of holding back, where theirs still needs to earn a living, school children, build a future.

But I am not rolling out the vaccines, so I want to celebrate those younger than my generation of retirees, those who continue to parent obstreperous children trapped inside small apartments, those who continue to struggle with home-schooling while fearful of letting their children down, those who continue to risk their health daily in order to keep buses and trains running, supermarkets well-stocked, chemists open. Through your pared-down lives I see the love of Christ shining, casting his shadow – his promise – of hope and tracing his fingers of grace and love. If I were to dare to speak any words of advice, it would be not to judge yourselves too harshly: put all your expectations in God, and he will carry you through.

God bless all those who face another day of angst and pressure. Grace and peace.

God Provides

 

Outside my window stands an electricity pole, carrying three wires from the transmitter down the road, to us, and past us. Four wires bring a suitable amount of power into our home, keeping us lit up, online and cooking.

God has blessed us with power. He provides.

This morning, I will be Zooming into my Bible study group. Because we are meeting online, we can include a friend from many miles away who otherwise could not join us. I can read my Bible on my own, and I do, but there is something special about reading it with others and sharing thoughts and insights.

God has blessed us with friends and church, whether we are gathered in a building or gathered online. I am grateful for the prayers and encouragement of many friends from many places. I am grateful for all that God provides.

Split Loyalty

 

Outside my bedroom window, there grows a flowering cherry tree. It was a gift from a special friend, given with love when my sister Judy died, over thirty years ago. The trunk twists skyward, splitting into three substantial trunks branching out separately but joined at the base. In spring, the tree is resplendent with gorgeous pink blossom.

Jesus teaches us to abide in him. Rooted in him, we are able to withstand the winds of change which blow fiercely during our lives. I love the visual lesson of the trunk of this cherry tree. Jesus’ followers may have different opinions on various issues of our times, but as we remain rooted in Jesus, we stay united and strong.

Watching events unfold on the world stage, it is apparent that remaining rooted in Jesus is not easy. I have another tree outside the window. An apple tree, which used to produce Bramley apples only. Several years ago, its trunk split, down low. I’m not a horticulturist, but I think that the split divided two varieties of apple that were ‘spliced’ together. Now half the tree produces beautiful Bramley apples, while the other half grows a smaller variety.

May God himself help us all to remain rooted in Jesus, so that we can recognise and live out his truth, bringing beauty and fragrance into our world today.

Sparkling like Diamonds

 

The sun blazes out of a watery blue sky this morning; on the cement garden path, ice crystals sparkle like priceless diamonds. The ice formed overnight, during the hours of darkness. And now the sun brings out their beauty.

There is a darkness hovering over the world, over us all, just now. So many sources of heaviness and fear. But light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

It is so comforting and encouraging to know that God never sleeps. That even in the darkness, he is working to bring good out of challenging situations. Praying that my trust in him will deepen as we walk through these days. God provided manna from heaven for the Israelites overnight, as they slept. He is faithful, and he provides. Even – maybe especially – during the hours of darkness, when we sleep. May his beauty sparkle like diamonds in each of our lives today.

Snow Woman at the Bird Feeder

 

A few days ago, we scraped together enough snow to make a snow-woman. Positioned beside the bird-feeder, we tried to give her a significantly fierce expression, so that the cats would be frightened away and leave our feathered friends alone. By yesterday, she was shrinking, melting away and disappearing, and today she is gone.

To be honest, the cats didn’t seem to notice her anyway.

In these early days of 2021, we remember the lesson of 2020: that all our plans can be overturned overnight. We know that we can just about make a plan for Today, and perhaps it will come to fruition, but even that might melt away. Hopefully, we are beginning to hold lightly to our own plans.

‘For I know the plans I have for you, God declares. Plans for hope and a future.’ As I watched the violent coup-attempt by Trump and his supporters last week, it took more effort to accept this promise of God for our immediate future. But as details have emerged and I have seen pictures and heard accounts of foiled plans for atrocities the rioters hoped to commit, I have seen the hand of God holding them back.

Doubling down on prayer for our world, fuelled with fresh evidence of the efficacy of prayer, is my Monday morning resolution. Our world is in desperate need of God’s healing touch. With his help, I hope that my prayer plan lasts longer than the snow-woman by the bird table.

Shepherd of the Flock

 

A shepherd moved his flock into ‘our’ field a few days ago, a field with no trees, and no shelter. More snow fell overnight and, though it only adds up to an inch or two, it lies on frozen earth. No doubt the grass which is still there is also frozen.

I watch as the ewes ‘in lamb’ scrape away snow in order to access whatever nutrition lies beneath. One holds a rear leg up, limping painfully across the frozen terrain.

This past week, seeing Jesus’ beautiful name invoked on placards waved by those intent on violence and chaos has been shocking and appalling. I can only think that those individuals have a warped vision of a divine shepherd whose actions towards his flock are like those of the shepherd in our neighbourhood: dispassionately leaving his people exposed to the harsh elements, limping and hungry, fending for themselves.  

What a contrast with Jesus’ description of himself as the good shepherd, who offers rich grazing, refreshing water, and tender companionship and care. In these wintry days, again I challenge myself to change perspective, from anxiously consuming news which leads to heartburn and indigestion, to hopefully feeding on God’s word, grazing in his luxuriant pastures and drinking from the everlasting waters of life which spring from him.

I am so grateful for the good shepherd, Jesus, who continues to walk with us, leading us forward into a future of joy, peace and love.

Burnished Bronze

Overnight snow sticks to the north-facing sides of trunks and branches, tracing their graceful, sinewy shapes not usually noticed. A sliver of moon hung suspended over the awakening scene as I got up, and then it faded in the burnished bronze of a new dawn.

The feet of Jesus as described in Revelation 1 were like burnished bronze. He walks among us today; he has never left nor forsaken us.

A new dawn, a new day to enjoy nature, worship the creator God, and embrace all the good that life holds. Yes, there is much to concern and appal us in the news, but I choose to focus on God and the good things he calls me to do and say today.

This is the day he’s made; this is the day I’ve got; may I not squander it in fearful imaginings or angry complaints.

  

Sepia Dawn

A sepia dawn in shades of grey and brown. The hint of brightness, coming and going, rising and dimming. Still the diamonds glisten at the ends of twigs and branches, but their dazzle is diminished, their twinkle has disappeared.

No civic government can ever provide what God provides. Every idol topples eventually. It’s time for humility, time to seek God.

In the middle of the storm, I’m going to praise the God in whom I trust. That phrase is imprinted on every American coin and dollar bill, and I’m going to stand in the gap here and claim its truth. In Christ, irredeemable people and situations can be reversed. Beauty can come from ashes.

This is the day to listen again to Jesus taking the words of Isaiah and making them his own declaration: ‘He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.’

In every teardrop, there is a rainbow. May this sepia dawn become arched with rainbows as we look to Jesus, our hope and our salvation.

  

Diamonds

 

A thin white mist whispers over the trees and fields outside my bedroom window. A living room transformed into classroom/playroom during this lock down: prayer space now from a different window, this one looking east towards the weak winter sun rising on the horizon.

Icy droplets on the bare branches look like diamonds as the sun beams towards me.

Don’t despise the day of small things. Life is reduced for us all now, reduced to the walls of our homes, reduced to the people with whom we live.

Diamonds. Time to appreciate each diamond in my life. Time to walk step by step with our Lord. We can’t see what lies ahead, but he can.

‘For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for good, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’

His faithfulness never ends. These words are to me today, to you. Hope and a future. The thin white mist whispers his goodness and mercy. May I pause and be refreshed in his presence today. May I harvest diamonds right where I am today, however that looks.

A Breath of Wind

 

A breath of wind caresses the straggly twigs which tangle together in the apple and cherry trees. Through the bare branches I can see the lightening sky of morning, a glow of gold where the sun has finally risen, with rosy hues of grey fanning out in all directions. It’s a new day, another gift of God.

The heaviness of a new lockdown sentence hangs on us all, like the weight of an anchor on a boat. It doesn’t have to. I don’t want to be grounded in a sea of despair. So I am going to deliberately ‘weigh anchor’, asking God to lift the heaviness and breathe fresh winds into my sails today. Fresh winds of faith for the future, of hope for today, of purpose and love in the moment.

We may be caught in the crosswinds of a vicious pandemic, but Jesus is with us in the boat. He holds us close, whispers encouragement, and gently prunes away those dead areas in each of us which hinder our growth in faith.

May his breath of wind catch in your sails today, and mine, and carry us through the storm.

A new year

 

A new year. More of the same, or significantly different?

There is much in life over which I have no control. If I have taken one truth out of 2020, that is the one pressed down into my thinking. A person makes plans, Scripture says, but God directs their paths. So my plans, this year, focus on one day at a time. They revolve around discerning the differences I can make, and making them. I will eat significantly less meat from now on, continue to source products with the least environmental impact, and join with locals who have similar aims. I will double down on efforts to lobby for justice and freedom issues. I will celebrate each day, enjoying the blessing of being with whoever I’m with each day, while continuing to pray for the day when I can resume freedom of movement to visit all those I love and miss.

May the God of hope fill us all with joy as we continue to put our trust in him. Happy 2021.

Dad's Birthday

 

January 2^nd. It would have been my dad’s 98^th birthday today. Ninety-eight!

One sadness of not being able to get back to visit Mom, is not being there to take her to Green Hills and visit his grave, clipping the overgrown grass and decorating it with flowers. I’ve not been able to take her for almost two years now.

Maybe it isn’t important, but it feels bad not being able to take proper care of his grave. He always went to the barber every three weeks to get a ‘short back and sides’, and that makes me want to give his gravestone a ‘short back and sides’, too.

Instead, I am asking the Lord to help me to trim off any raggedy bits of memory I have of him, so that I honour him with my life as I live out some of the truths he instilled in me. I am grateful for his faith, for his loyalty, for his love, for his meticulous observation of telling the truth. I’m asking God to bless my understanding of every aspect of his character.

I give thanks today for his life well-lived. I wouldn’t be who I am, without his strength and character and fatherly love.

Fully Received

 

Staying at home has led us to perusing some of those cookbooks which are filled with recipes requiring skill and time. First Mhairi, and then Doug, chose to bake cakes from a lovely Parisian cookbook Jamie gave me years ago. Both turned out delicious; both required upwards of two hours in the kitchen.

As Doug piped the chocolate mousse onto the vanilla mousse in the Advent Ring cake he was making for Hogmanay, the star tip became jammed with a shard of un-melted chocolate. A vigorous twiddle up the spout with a toothpick unblocked the way and with an almighty whoosh, the soft mousse responded to Doug’s strong pushes. It gushed out in a tsunami of luxurious richness. Turns out it was important to fully melt the chocolate before folding it into the mousse.

I sit in my prayer window, following a routine of readings and trying to listen to what God has to say to me. I sense that there are times when I don’t wait long enough. I catch a phrase or two of what he is saying, and rather than lingering in the moment to ensure the rich truth has been fully ‘melted’ into my psyche and received by me, I rush off into my day.

For instance, sensing his encouragement to witness more to my faith, I might find myself blurting out something inappropriately which overwhelms a listener rather than enlightening or encouraging her.

Or, I might realise that I’ve ignored something he said, and so I twiddle about endeavouring to incorporate it into my words and actions. The blockage cleared, the rich truth can gush out in a tidal wave which may overwhelm the moment.

Praying that as I enter this new year, I will wait patiently for the Lord, so that the rich truths he wants to fold into my life will be fully received before they are acted upon in my own puny strength and understanding.